


Bits of Space and Time

by arachnistar



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 02:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnistar/pseuds/arachnistar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of all my drabbles and one shots shorter than 1,000 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heart of the Labyrinth

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: They speak of a monster in the Labyrinth. They call it Bad Wolf. They send rebels down to it. No one ever returns. It’s an obvious conclusion to draw that he’s next on the menu. AU Ten/Rose. 
> 
> Written for the prompt 'a labyrinth' over at permissiontofollowup on tumblr.

The Labyrinth is where they throw rebels, the ones too dangerous to condemn to prison, the ones who are deemed irredeemable. Which, he supposes with a grim smile, he is. He has no intention of ever recanting his views, so now he must face the beast.

Bad Wolf.

No one knows what it is. All they know is that once you go in, you never come out again. It’s simple to draw a conclusion from there.

He’s been in here for hours wandering the dank tunnels, but he hasn’t come across anything. Until now.

Golden light shines from around the corner. A shiver runs down the Doctor’s spine. He nearly turns tail and runs, but curiosity beats that impulse. He may as well see the infamous Bad Wolf before attempting escape. Or getting eaten, whichever it comes down to.   

He rounds the corner and freezes. It’s not a wolf, not a hideous monster of any kind. It’s a woman. A familiar one he never thought he would see again.

“Rose?”

It’s impossible. She’s dead, has been for three years, ever since she got caught investigating the government. He must be hallucinating, a final image of his beloved before the wolf rips his throat out. Except… well, there was never a body.

Rose smiles, catching her tongue between her teeth. “Doctor.”

His heart skips a beat and then he’s throwing all caution to the wind to run to her – illusion or not, glowing or not, it’s _her_ and there is no one he wants more in this universe. He pulls her into a tight embrace, lifting her to swing through the air. When he sets her back down again, they’re both laughing and crying and then her lips are on his. They’re warm, warmer than they should be, but he doesn’t think much on it because it’s _Rose_ and she’s _here_ with him, kissing him, in the last place he ever expected to see her. He should be dying right now and instead he’s kissing Rose Tyler and it’s brilliant.

When they finally pull away, the Doctor stares at her. She’s leaner than before, more angled, hardened. But the most dramatic difference is in her eyes, in the golden light that lurks there, the light that radiated off her when he first rounded the corner but has receded some since.

He manages to choke out some words. “What are you doing here?”

“They threw me in here when they caught me snooping. Thought the monster would take care of me.”

He nods – it’s the same song and dance as ever. Back then, the monster wasn’t Bad Wolf. It was nameless until a few months later when writing began to appear at the Labyrinth’s entrance and outer tunnels. Bad Wolf, the letters proclaimed and rumors spread of an intelligent beast and desperate attempts at escape.

“And you survived? Bad Wolf and everything else?”  

She grins, a feral smile. “Doctor, I _am_ Bad Wolf.”

“That’s – “ He shakes his head. “You can’t be. Bad Wolf’s…”

…the monster the government uses to cow its citizens into subservience, the destroyer of rebels, the beast lurking in the bowels of the Labyrinth.

He doesn’t say any of that.

“There was… somethin’ here before. I never really learned what it was, but it was lonely. Lonely an’ dying an’ not at all like the monster from the stories. I reached out to it and it sorta…” She gestures to the air, swirling golden dust between them. “burst, I suppose, into this energy. I took it an’ here I am. Bad Wolf.”

He feels weak and shaky – if it weren’t for Rose’s arms around him, he expects he would’ve fallen to the floor by now. Rose Tyler, his Rose, is Bad Wolf? Killing all who entered? He can’t believe it, but it’s been three years and people change. He hopes she hasn’t; he’s almost scared to ask but he needs to. “The others who came in here?”   

Her eyes light up. “They’re still here.” His heart nearly jumps up his throat. “C’mon, I’ll show you.” She pulls on his hand and he follows along.  

“All of ‘em?”

Rose nods. “They’ve been hidin’ in the tunnels. Gathering forces, making plans, surviving. Bad Wolf keeps any guards away.” She grins the same feral smile from before and he finds himself smiling along. All his friends who weren’t thrown in the Labyrinth are still alive; most importantly, Rose is still alive and he is here with her. “How would you like to topple a regime, Doctor?”

“It would be my pleasure, Rose Tyler.”  


	2. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two waterfalls in two different universes. Short fluff.

“The Majestic Falls of Scree-tal.” The Doctor spreads his arms wide.

The waterfall towers over them, thousands of meters, the top lost to silvery clouds. Water cascades down in gleaming, orange sheets. The basin it falls into is the deepest orange and the spray glitters in the air like drops of gold. Obsidian cliffs cradle the whole scene.

“’S beautiful.” She breathes out, mesmerized by the otherworldly gleam of everything. Whether it’s her first wonder of the universe or her hundredth, she expects she’ll always feel like this – eyes wide, mouth open in awe, completely enraptured with how beautiful the universe can be. 

He smiles, takes her hand, and points. “D’you see them?” Sapphire fish-like humanoids with trailing fins at their elbows, thighs, and ankles glide through the pool. Some of them also climb the falls.

When she nods, he continues. “Those are the Scree. These waterfalls are their… well, they’re a bit like their holy sites, but not quite that.” He clicks his tongue and pauses to think of an analogy that would make sense to her. “Imagine a temple, but make it even more important, even more vital to their lives. Temple and capital and proving grounds. Each Scree has to ascend the falls at least once a year when they reach maturity.”

Rose watches as one of the Scree topples from thirty meters up the waterfall. Its fins wave in the air like banners and then it hits the water with a small splash. “What happens if one doesn’t?”

“They’ll all know that it failed and it’ll die alone. Even a partner from an earlier year will leave.”

Compassion for the creature that fell floods her. She wants to lift it up, wants to see it conquer the waterfall, but this is something they do alone. “Can it try again?”

“Until it wants to give up, yeah.”

They watch the Scree swim and climb and fall until the red sun begins to set, holding hands the entire time. In a few weeks, she’ll fall dangerously close to the Void and her savior will also be her damnation, but for now, she is happy.

X-X-X

“Not quite the Majestic Falls of Scree-tal, but it’s here.”

This waterfall is considerably smaller than the Majestic Falls. It’s not even the most impressive waterfall on Earth. It’s just a little one in the middle of the English woods, feeding into a pool. The area is surrounded by trees and ferns, light filtering through the shade. Cool and secluded.

She discovered it on her own, a few months after being stuck in this dimension when the urge to explore had brought her out hiking. It became her spot to get away from the city and relax. And now she’s brought him here. Suddenly she’s frightened that he’ll scoff, that this little cove can’t possibly live up to anything he’s seen and that it’ll only remind him of what he no longer has.

But he beams at her. “It’s beautiful.” 

They spend a few moments standing side by side, holding hands and taking in the idyllic scene. Then his smile becomes a manic grin and he’s tugging off his shirt. His trainers, socks, and trousers soon follow. She catches on and begins to undress as he clambers up the cliffs to the waterfall’s top. There’s a moment when she thinks he’ll fall, his legs scrambling for purchase on the slippery surface, but he manages to get up. 

“C’mon Rose.”

Sporting an identical grin, Rose climbs after him. Near the top, her feet slip on the wet stone and she begins to fall. Her body braces for impact. 

But he grabs her arm. “Now, now, don’t go jumpin’ from down there. It’s up here that you want to jump from.” She sticks her tongue out at him as he tugs her up the rest of the way.

They stand on the rock for a moment, the world turning around them. The Scree come to mind with their brutal ceremony, their quick abandonment of those who fall too early. No one will catch them. Her hand tightens around his. Falling or standing, she has him here. Their promise lingers in the air – he will never run away and she will never toss him aside.    

They exchange smiles before jumping into the pool below.


	3. Phoenix Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is Bad Wolf and the universe is hers. Introspective word thing.

Her blood boils with power, with space and time and everything, with stars and planets and galaxies, with life and death. It is equal parts glorious, terrifying, and exhilarating. It is the universe and it spins within her and it is hers to do with as she wishes.

And to think, once upon a time, she was just a shop girl with no future, just tea and telly and monotonous folding over and over again. It seems so long ago now, a whole different person, but she knows she isn’t. Who she is now, this shining brilliant woman with the power to bend the universe and tear apart galaxies, who can see the past the present the future _the whole complicated mess of time streams  because it isn’t linear, it’s messy like children’s scribbles but a thousand times more intricate_ , she came from that. That dead-end life with a dead-end job and a dead-end future. That was her then and this is her now, grown and fully realized, a flame, a blaze, an inferno.

She is Rose Tyler. She is Bad Wolf. She is Rose Tyler and Bad Wolf, nothing and everything, radiance and rage and love, still so human but bursting with energy, transcending above and beyond.

She sees a planet galaxies away, beautiful and isolated, red grass and orange skies with a domed city. Ships float in the sky and the world, nay the universe, is rocked by this war. She sees the dome shatter, the tower crumble, the grass burn – everything is fire and blood and death. So much death and she can see a lonely blue box spinning away from the destruction, a lone survivor.

She sees her Doctor fall to Daleks, but she will not allow that. She intercedes, steps in before it can happen, dissipates atoms because they are nothing and her Doctor will be – _is_ – safe. She sees the body of her Doctor consumed in energy, sees him emerge with chestnut hair and brown eyes, all bouncy energy and manic smiles. She sees him die a thousand times and live more than that.  

She sees a white room, two white rooms actually, identical and parallel but too far from each other. She sees a lonely beach in Norway. Bad Wolf Bay, she names it, and her heart is at once broken over it. Tears glimmer in her eyes and it _hurts_ knowing that this will be the stage for a good-bye. _I love you._ And she wants to hear him say it but he’s gone before it can happen and she is left with tears.

She sees the night sky and the stars as they blink out of existence. One by one, they vanish and then there’s just a deep darkness, darker than anything she’s ever seen before, the darkness of nothing and nowhere. She draws away from that, finds a market on a far-off planet where the most important woman in the universe and her Doctor will visit one day, scatters words there as a warning, an omen of the apocalypse to come.

She sees many men, scarves and celery and colorful jackets and pinstripes and bowties, but they are all the Doctor, her Doctor. She sees many women, all the same but different in little ways. A Rose who never met the Doctor wasting away in a shop, a Rose torn apart by monsters on some lonely planet, a Rose in leather carrying a large gun into hell, a Rose shining with the power of the universe, a supernova burning and burning until finally going out. And she sees them – together and apart, hands held, distances maintained, bodies tangled, lines not crossed, two intertwined timelines clinging to one another.   

Everything is going by faster now, so fast that it’s impossible to sort through all the images, but she can get the sense of them and they burn. There are quiet Sunday mornings in bed, imploding planets, sticky fingers, broken bodies, babies wrapped in blankets, shattered vases, traveling storytellers, sacrifices for good people, cupcakes with ball bearings, colliding stars, whispers of love, bruises and burns and wounds beyond repair, tombstones reading Rose Tyler – it’s everything that was, is, could be. She wants to stop the bad and usher in the good, twist time for the better.  

She is flying high, bubbling with all this power and she feels like she can fly away forever and lose herself in this everything, spinning without an axis, lost to space and time and it hurts, it hurts so much and why can’t it just stop, but then there’s an anchor pulling her back to earth, something steady she can grasp on to and hold, a light to guide her home. The flurry is settling, the storm of her mind calming. She drifts back to her body, focuses on the pressure at her lips, the hands holding her arms, the staccato beat of her heart, all those physical sensations that mark her.

Everything leaves her. She should feel empty, bereft of the universe like this, but she isn’t. She is still full of love and fury and sadness and every other human emotion and thought – she is still Rose Tyler. Nonetheless, it’s too much, this sudden loss, this life, this remembrance of all that is and was and will be, and she falls into welcoming arms and the comfort of forgetting.     


	4. Run Away with Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginnings of a road trip Nine/Rose AU that may or may not become longer one day.

They are the coolest kids in school. Don’t even have to try, they just are. Not in the way other kids are cool, rich or athletic, owning the right stuff and looking the right way, but in a way all their own where you can’t help but respect them.

Him in his leather jacket, biting sarcasm and smarter than the rest. Her often in pink but not always, cleverer than her grades let on and braver than you’d expect. Them, together, atop his blue motorcycle or behind the bleachers or nestled under a tree. Laughing, snogging, talking, running, doesn’t matter because they always look like they’re having more fun than the rest of the world. Like they’re in on some secret cosmic joke, hurtling through life like comets while everyone else trudges along on heavy feet.  

And then one day the bell is ringing but they aren’t in class. Peering out windows, people can see the duo. He’s on his motorcycle, arm extended out to her, an open invitation. Mickey is there and gives the full story to an attentive cafeteria.  

X-X-X

“C’mon Rose, we need to get to class.”

Her eyes don’t stray. “I need to see what’s goin’ on.”

“Rose! Jus’ leave him.” Mickey tugs at her arm, but it’s pointless. He knows he’ll never convince her to go inside, not unless _he’s_ going inside too and it doesn’t look like it.  

She jerks free, eyes momentarily falling on Mickey. “I can’t. I need to…” And her eyes are back to _him_. “See ya, Mickey.”

And then she’s off. Mickey sighs, watches as she runs up to her leather-clad man. His arms cross as the two of them smile and hug and cast significant, long looks at the blue motorcycle. He’s saying something and Mickey can’t make the words out from here, but it’s clear that he wants to go. 

…Oh no, she isn’t… But she does. Gets up on that cycle, arms wrapping around his waist, and before Mickey can take a step forward (not that he could stop her, she always was determined to do what she wanted, but maybe to say good-bye or get her to think a little more), they’re gone. The pair of them, on the road. And it’s sad and he wishes she was here at school instead because he’s already missing her, but it feels right too.

Like this is how it should be.  

X-X-X

They’re off adventuring now. Cardiff, Stonehenge, Edinburgh Castle, Bath, Cornwall, everywhere that a motorcycle can reach. Sometimes Mickey gets postcards with photos attached. Two of them always grinning and touching. They pop by for brief visits sometimes, to her mum and him, no one else, but they always leave in the end.

People whisper about them too. They become a legend and no one is quite sure what’s truth and what’s fiction when it comes to them but everyone has their favorite stories.

Wild speculative stories about why they ran away (“she’s pregnant”, “they’re a modern-day Romeo and Juliet”, “mafia", and so on, all false as far as Mickey’s aware of). Wild speculative stories about what they’re doing (“thieves, or how else do you think they’re makin’ any money”, “bein’ dumb idiots and having more fun than the rest of us hardworkin’ types”, and “shagging like rabbits” - always comes back to that one). Wild speculative stories about what they’ll do in the future (“come back, they gotta come back, can’t run forever”, “get themselves killed soon enough”, and always, always “keep on running”).

And that’s what they do - keep on running and running and running.


	5. Wrong Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose runs into Clara on a dimension-hopping trip. Some Eleven/Rose.

Rose arrived just in time to see a brunette girl stepping out of a familiar blue police box. Her heart soared; at last! Dozens of dimension hopping trips and she’d finally found the Doctor! She began to walk, steps quickening as she neared. He would be out right after his companion and then she’d see him and -

But instead the TARDIS faded into thin air, the Doctor leaving his companion. And her.

“No!” The word slipped out before Rose could stop it. She skidded to a halt, her gun nearly dropping. He was gone.

“What are you doing with that thing?” Rose’s eyes turned from where the TARDIS had stood to scrutinize the young woman who had left it. There was a steely determination in the woman’s gaze coupled with fear that she was trying to hide. 

Fear? Rose was momentarily puzzled before remembering. The gun. Right. Not something regular people carried around on regular streets unless you were on Caroloptero Prime, in which case large guns were part of the norm and a necessity for defense against the multitudes of raiders. But this was Earth and big, futuristic blasters weren’t okay.  

“‘M not goin’ to hurt anyone.” Rose mumbled. With the Doctor gone, she just had to wait to be pulled back to the other universe. Another failed trip… except, well, there was still his companion. 

“Then what are you doing running around with that?”

“For aliens. Sometimes I land in a bad place and this helps me out.” Rose gave her a smile. The woman didn’t look entirely convinced of her innocence quite yet, so she added, “‘M a friend of the Doctor’s.”

The woman peered at her closely, gauging her sincerity, before returning the smile. The fear had vanished from her eyes, replaced by a bright curiosity. “I didn’t know he had any other friends.”

“We go back.”

The other woman nodded and extended a hand. “I’m Clara.”

Rose shifted her gun around and shook Clara’s hand. She was beginning to like this woman. It was a shame she wouldn’t be able to get to know her better. “Is he coming back?”

“Next week.” Clara frowned when Rose’s face fell. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait. You can drop by or I can call you.”

Rose shook her head. “Won’t work.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she kept them at bay. She’d come so close, but this wasn’t it. This wasn’t the right time. Might not even be her Doctor. Which meant she would have to keep on hopping dimensions, keep on searching for the right time.  

“Hey, it’s okay. I can give him a call now.” Clara placed a hand on her arm. “We can get this all sorted.”

Another shake of her head. “’S not time.”

Clara’s nose scrunched at that. “You’re talking just like him.”

Rose laughed, pausing when she noted the blinking light at her wrist. It was almost time to return. “I have to go. Nice meeting you, Clara.” She turned away and began walking away.   

“Wait!” Rose glanced back at Clara. “You never told me your name.”

She lingered, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. “Good-bye, Clara.” Then she disappeared, fading from view just like the TARDIS had.  

-

Next time the Doctor came to pick Clara up for another adventure, she almost expected to see the blonde woman reappear, just as she had disappeared. But there was no one. Frowning in disappointment and more than a bit curious about her identity, Clara approached the Doctor. “There was a woman looking for you last week.”

“Hmm?” He barely glanced up from the controls.

“She didn’t give me her name. Disappeared right before she could. She was blonde.” His body froze, stiller than she’d ever seen it before. Clara stepped to his side. “Doctor?” Nothing. “Who was she?”  

The Doctor was quiet for several moments and Clara thought he was going to withdraw and move on like he always did. Either that or drop some annoyingly enigmatic answer that didn’t answer anything at all. But then he finally dragged his eyes up to her and gave her a small smile, eyes shining with some hidden emotion. “Rose Tyler. We were… We traveled together.”

Clara smiled in return. “Tell me about her.”  

He turned from the console and began.


	6. Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pointless Nine/Rose fluff when Rose discovers an icy lake in the TARDIS and convinces the Doctor to join her.
> 
> Written for the prompt "Rose discovers a new room in the TARDIS" at permissiontofollowup on tumblr.

Every surface glimmers, as if she has stepped through the wardrobe into a wintry Narnia. Snow dusts the ground around a large circle of smooth ice. Evergreen trees stand guard around the frozen glade. Where there should be a ceiling (although she learned long ago that _should_ rarely applies to the TARDIS), there is a pale blue sky.  

Rose takes several steps into the room. Exploring the TARDIS is always bound to lead to something interesting, but this is beyond anything Rose has seen. A frozen lake inside the TARDIS – delighted laughter bursts forth from her lips. She runs across the snow and then pauses at the ice’s edge.

Skates. She needs skates.

She turns her head and there’s a pair of pink skates waiting for her on a fallen log. She smiles at the sky. “Thank you.” There’s an appreciative hum in return.

Rose doesn’t waste time in lacing up the skates – they fit, of course they fit, much better than any rental skates ever could – and then making the couple wobbly steps back to the ice.

She steps out. For a moment, she’s swaying and flailing her arms because it’s been a while, but then she straightens out and slides forward.

The first lap is a slow ride to break in the new skates and remind herself of the regular motions. The second one is faster and the third even faster as Rose gets comfortable with the glide of metal over ice. She loses herself in it, in the cold air that blankets her, in the blood rushing through her veins, in the constant back-and-forth swish of her legs. Everything is peaceful until he enters.

“Rose, what’re you doin’ in here?”

The interruption is just enough to make her lose focus and tumble to the ground. She lands on her knees and hisses at the pain that laces through her body. 

“Rose!”

She turns just in time to see the Doctor run out on the ice, his legs sliding apart, and fall gracelessly on his arse. He looks almost surprised at the fall, blue eyes wide and owlish. Laughter bubbles forth from her, the pain in her knees forgotten. He scowls at her.

“What happened to superior Time Lord balance?”

His scowl only deepens. “Ice isn’t that good a surface anyway. No friction and it’ll get wet spots.”

He pushes himself up and makes the few steps back to solid ground. Rose watches from her place on the ice. As it becomes clear that the Doctor’s leaving, Rose stands and skates to the opposite end. 

“No need to run off, Doctor.” The Doctor turns. His eyes jump up and down surveying her, with a pause at her knees. Once he’s ascertained that she’s not hurt (and she’s not really, just a bruise probably), his eyes are back on her.

“Put some skates on.”  

“I don’t skate.”

“Just like you don’t dance?”

They stare at each other for a moment. His face is grave, eyes intense, but there’s a light smile dancing on his lips. Little more pushing and he’ll agree – she knows he will. With a cheeky smile, she points at the rink.

“Show me your game, Doctor.” Small pause and then, “Unless you’re afraid to fall again.”

He smirks, the challenge lighting up his eyes, and saunters to where a pair of black skates await him. “You asked for it, Rose.”

They step out on the ice together. Rose skates ahead and then swivels around to face him, a grin on her face. The Doctor is sliding slowly across the ice, his brow furrowed as he watches his feet. His body is tense, a drawn bowstring in leather.

She skates back to his side and nudges him. “What’s wrong? That all you can do?”

He shoots her a pointed look and then returns attention to his feet. “It’s been a while. Gotta warm up first.”

“What you need is to loosen up.”

Rose reaches out and takes his hand. His grip is tight, but as they move forward, building up momentum, gliding over the ice together, the tension seeps from his body. Soon he’s smiling as wide as she is. It’s a beautiful sight – that large smile on his oft-solemn face, overshadowing even the beauty of the snowy environment around them.

After an hour of skating, showing each other up with fancy moves – spins and back-skating and just going as fast as possible - and enjoying one another’s company, hand-in-hand circles around the lake, Rose skids to a stop and steps back out on to the snow. Her legs throb from their long confinement in the skates though she feels giddy and warm from the activity. The Doctor stops too and smiles down.

“Tired already? That mean I win?”

“I started earlier than you did.” 

He shrugs and offers her a hand. “C’mon then, let’s get out of here. Get a warm cuppa.”

“And chips?” She asks hopefully, taking his hand.

He laughs. “And chips.” 


	7. Blitz Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten/Rose, WWII, London Blitz AU prompt from whoinwhoville on tumblr

“No.” 

The word felt small and inadequate to describe what he was feeling right now. Sick to his stomach, the world iced over, like a shadow had draped over his heart, _as if nothing mattered anymore_ , those might be a little closer to the truth.

The building before him was a shell of its former self, just piles of scorched bricks and splintered wood. Empty of what mattered.  

And he never said – never would be able to now. If only she had been with him… or if he had been with her, if he hadn’t refused to visit her mum the night before, if he hadn’t decided work was more important because he was on the edge of something new and exciting and potentially groundbreaking. And now, now he was alone and she was –

He turned away from the ruin. Throat tight, eyes burning, he began to walk. His strides turned longer and longer until he was running through the city, feet pounding the ground. If he ran fast enough, he could turn back time or at least escape the ghosts.

He paid no attention to his surroundings, just let his feet move him around people, past buildings both standing and ruined, past broken lives soldiering on. His legs burned, but he kept on until the ache in his muscles was the only sensation, the only thing he could feel.  

Sirens rang through the city. He blinked, halting his mad dash – he’d been going for longer than he’d meant to. Not that he’d had any specific plans in mind, just sweet escape.  

He tilted his head to gaze at the dark sky. He could lie back on the pavement and watch the German planes overhead, he could watch the city burn around him, he could feel the heat and breathe in smoke and see what happened, see if chance would favor him or not. He could do it.

“Oi, what are you doing standin’ around there for? Can’t you hear the sirens?” His head swiveled in the voice’s direction, the owner a ginger-haired woman. “Well, come on. We’ve got room for one more.”

He hesitated (he didn’t care not anymore, not really, not after – but he didn’t want to _die_ , probably, not now at least, and anyway she was standing there, waiting, and he really shouldn’t have her worried) and then followed the woman into the shelter. Children made up most of the shelter’s occupants, little ones with grubby faces all the way to teenagers who’d grown up too fast.

And in a corner, surrounded by a gaggle of children listening with rapt attention, it was _her_. He gasped. Impossible, couldn’t be, she was dead, her home, it was just a smoking mess of wood and brick. He was finally cracking, had to be. She’d always called him mad and now he truly was.

She hadn’t seen him yet, was still going on with her story, something about gas masks and children wanting mums, something fantastical and so utterly her, so utterly them. And the children – they were listening so closely like she was real, so maybe he wasn’t mad, maybe this was her and he was being an idiot by not doing anything and –

“Rose.” Her name caught in his throat, but she looked up from her audience and her face broke into a large grin. His face followed suit. It didn’t matter that they were in a crowded shelter, he was pushing through the huddle, pushing his way to her because she was _alive_ and nothing else mattered. She stood as well, side-stepped children, wrapped arms around his torso, gasped his name into his chest and then into his lips.  

“I love you,” he murmured into her mouth and when she pulled back to stare at him, eyes shining, he repeated it. He’d say it over and over again, every day for the rest of his life so long as she was there with him.


	8. Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten/Rose, Genie AU, prompt from spookyknight on Tumblr

She gets three wishes.

Her first wish is to see the stars, up close and miles away from Earth, an adventure the likes she's never had before. He shows her the creation of galaxies, the settling of interstellar dust, the final glorious eruption of massive stars, the formation of planets and suns and black holes. And maybe it's a bit excessive for your average wish, but she didn't tell him to take her to _all_ these places (just that she wanted to see the stars, just that, which is really quite open-ended – the exact places were his choices).

Her second wish, months later because she's terrified to give it voice, terrified to let him know this secret part of her even though he's probably heard the innermost desires of all sorts of people before and one more isn't likely to be groundbreaking, is for her father. Her mum cries when she sees him again; Rose stands back with the Doctor to allow the happy reunion. Eventually she caves and runs to her father's side, excited to meet the man she's never known.

And now it's time for her final wish.

She's held off on this one for other reasons, reasons she keeps close to her heart, and he's never pushed her on the point, never asked her to hurry along and make a decision. But it's finally time, she knows it in her bones, can feel that she's held off too long and that she has to make this wish so they can go their separate ways.

"So I get one more wish?"

"Yep."

"An' I can't wish for more wishes?"

"That, Rose Tyler, would be cheating." He teases with a waggle of his eyebrows.

She looks away from him. Whatever her final wish will be, she needs it to be good. Not just good, _fantastic_ , _brilliant_ , _something she won't regret no matter how much time passes_. Because after this wish, she'll return to ordinary life without him.

And he will… Well, she doesn't actually know what happens to him, not exactly. He doesn't talk much about himself, only occasionally drops references to other genies he's known before distracting her with some other topic. She looks back at the pinstriped man.

"What happens to you after?"

He shrugs. "I go back in the TARDIS. Wait around 'til someone else pops by to give her a good rub."

"You just stay in there?" She can't imagine this man, exuberant and bouncy and so full of energy, sitting still anywhere. And alone too – he's always talking, always rambling on about this or that. He thrives off audience.

"It's not so bad. Bigger on the – "

"Inside." She finishes for him with a grin. He smiles back. "Still, that's gotta get boring after a while."

The Doctor runs a hand through his hair and then beams. "Your final wish! What's it going to be? Do you want to see the past? Humanity's had some excellent moments in the past – could listen to Charles Dickens tell stories or maybe you'd rather see the coronation. That's a good one. Or the future, maybe? See where humanity lands itself in a few thousand years? Floating cars and vast cities and applegrass – oh applegrass is brilliant! Medicine too, you could live a long, happy life in the future."

He waits and when she doesn't respond, continues on, "Could go with something more present too. Riches beyond your wildest dreams? That's always a popular last one. People think money will fulfill the rest of their wishes. Keep 'em happy when I'm gone. They're wrong, of course, but I'm not one to argue. Or world peace? The other big one. I don't recommend it. Works for a while, but humanity always manages to bungle that one up. Entirely not my fault, just human nature at work. Only so much a genie can do."

He pauses for a dramatic moment, shoves his hands into his pockets, and grins, "So what'll it be?"

"I wish…" She stares at him, him with his sad and ancient eyes, not masked very well with his paper-thin smile. Those eyes that'll be locked up in the TARDIS until another person comes along and maybe that person won't be good; and even then, even then he would eventually just end up in the TARDIS on his own, no matter the person. It'll be his life for the rest of however long he'll live, a very long time if his current age is anything to go by.

"I wish you were free."

His mouth drops open. He stares at her like he can't quite believe what she's done, as if she's handed him the universe. She supposes she has; with his powers, he can go anywhere, see anytime, do anything. He'll go off and do it, of course he will. He has no need to be shackled to her anymore.

Her heart sinks. This will be the last time she sees him. She'll miss him and maybe he'll drop by sometime but probably not – he's not the sort for domestics of any kind.

But it's worth it, worth it to know that at least he won't be stuck in the TARDIS anymore. He won't have to be anyone's slave. He'd be free. Definitely worth it.

"Rose, I – I don't know what to…"

"Do?" She grins, tongue poking through her teeth, a stab at humor. "Whatever you want."

The Doctor's eyes fall to her mouth. He closes the distance between them, pulls her into his arms, tilts her head up. His lips press gently to hers, chaste and hesitant. She pushes closer, heart pounding in her chest because this is happening and he wants her. She swipes her tongue along his lips, he opens his lips and slides his tongue along hers, runs it through her mouth, along her teeth. Their mouths move together, lips and teeth and tongue, messy and wet and good. Eventually he pulls away enough to whisper,

"I want you."


	9. Sing a Little Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten/Rose, cabaret AU, prompt from kilodalton on Tumblr

John used to love this, talking with fellow high society members over dinner and drinks, but that joy seems to have burned alongside everything else. He can’t bring himself to pay much attention, not even as Jeanne tells the group about the upcoming party at the duke’s home. Instead his eyes wander the club, run along polished floors, mahogany tables, crimson leather chairs, decadent murals. They freeze on the stage, on the woman who’s just stepped out. Rose, an MC announces.

On the surface level, she’s just like any other cabaret singer who’s come up (but more gorgeous, he believes, definitely more gorgeous); dressed in a fitting silky piece that ends mid-thigh, hair done up in elaborate curls, secret smile that beckons to be answered. And when she starts singing, she moves like any performer, body fluid and sensual, rolling to the music.  

It’s her voice that stands out. Soft, melodious, jumping from high to low and back again, flowing like honey and tears – and something else, something that reverberates through his chest as if he’s got two hearts instead of one, something that echoes in the empty spaces his family left behind.

Once she’s finished her set and the applause has died down, she steps down from the stage. He tracks her progress to the bar where she chats with the bartender. About what he can’t make out but there are smiles and the man gives her a flirty wink followed with some whiskey.

John squirms in his seat and then glances at his fellow diners; they’re still engrossed in conversation, probably won’t miss him if he slips away for a few moments.  

With a mumbled excuse, he does just that and shuffles over to the bar. He hesitates, hands shoved into pockets, heart hammering and maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all but it’s too late now. He takes a seat by the blonde. Rose.

“Hello.” She looks over at him and it’s striking, being in her gaze. Now that he’s so close, he can’t think of anything else to say, which of course means he has to say everything.   

“Didn’t mean to interrupt or anything, but that was really something. It was… sad.” Realizing how that sounds, he backpedals, hands waving, “Not in a bad way! I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You were beautiful too, that’s probably more what you want to hear, sure you hear that a lot since you are, but there was something else too, something the others didn’t have. It’s like when you’re flying and then you’ve lost your wings and then it’s just a long fall, all on your own…”

Words are proving increasingly insufficient to describe his emotions (and to his horror, increasingly embarrassing), but they’re all he has right now, flimsy as they are. That and flapping hand gestures, which are probably making it worse. She’ll think he’s a lunatic, leave or throw him out, and he’ll be alone with his futile words.

“You’ve lost someone too?”

All his words drop off, just like his hands, falling to his sides, useless. He wants to lie because it’s easy to hide, he does it every day with everyone in his life, and it’s become a habit. He doesn’t do it now, chooses to nod instead.

She reaches over and takes his hand, squeezes it, with a small smile on her face. Not pity, it’s not pity on her face, but empathy and compassion and he really wants to kiss her now (he resists).  

“Rose Tyler.” And he knows, he heard the MC introduce her, but this is her giving him her name, it’s different, it’s an invitation to continue talking.

“John Smith,” and she laughs because _is that really his name_ and he decides it’s a sound he’d like to hear more often, all the time if possible.

They continue to talk after that, not about their respective losses because those are still too personal, too close to pour out even with that underlying understanding between them, even if they both know it’s there, but other things, bits of their lives, their careers, their interests and dreams and all the little things. It’s easy, peppered with smiles and laughs from the both of them. Before he knows it, his associates are long since gone, the club is shutting down, she’s asking if he’ll come tomorrow, and he finally feels _alive_. 


	10. love the light and let it burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fix-it fic for the 50th. It isn't her.

 “You’re going to use it.”

Everything in him stops and runs cold. Her voice. She’s here, she’s really here. His hearts soar and it doesn’t matter how or why – just that she’s here and that’s good. Despite everything else, fire and death and timelines, this one thing is good.   

He turns his head and there she stands. Everything in him flies up and up and up, but even as he murmurs “Rose”, he feels his hopes slip away, shattering, falling back to the ground to be swallowed whole.

“I’m not her.” 

“I know.” It’s her eyes, he can see the truth in her eyes, and it makes him feel just a little more tired. Still, she’s beautiful like she always was (is, she’s still alive).  

“Well,” and here she tilts her head and it’s so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time and he wants to shake the universe, rail against its injustice for presenting him with an image that is and isn’t her (what did he do to – oh that’s what), “I am. And I’m not. I’m the conscience of the Moment. I chose this form because…” Here she tapers off.

When she starts up again, it’s not to finish her sentence. “I was from his future, but I’m from your close past, aren’t I? Yes, that’s right. You didn’t even say good-bye.”

His hearts throb and he looks away. He doesn’t want to think about cold beaches, what was said and not said on them. It’s better this way.

“She loves you.”

He turns back at that to see her staring, tongue poking out from between her teeth, and that really does hurt. It’s so _her_ but this image isn’t her, not the real her, the one a universe away with another him.

He never did say those words, not this him. And he wants to, he does. Well a part of him does, to leave something before he dies (hours, days, weeks, months – the Ood never said when, just soon), but he’s scared and it’s too late now and he’s not supposed to want anyway. He can be on his own and be okay. He can. He _is_ okay (but not really, not since Mars, not since rainy departures and that damn beach, even before maybe).

“I…”

“She knows.”

Of course she does. But the words, they matter. It’s so utterly human, this need for words to crystallize truths, as if words can encapsulate all the feelings burning inside their small bodies. And he doesn’t need to, he really doesn’t, but he wants to, wants to bask in them and forget the death creeping close by. He just can’t. He looks down at the ground, at her not-Rose shoes.

It’s too late anyway. She’s a universe away and he’s here about to destroy Gallifrey again. He’s ready (and not at the same time but it needs to be done, it’s already happened, already shaped the universe and time and him and really it’s for the best with Time Lords and Daleks as they are – but this time he isn’t alone and that counts for something, has to count for something) and now all he wants is Rose, the real Rose, to hold his hand again. She never will though, not with this him.

Maybe saying three words will help, even if she isn’t here. Maybe words can heal, offer something wonderful and terrifying before he kills again. Maybe, maybe not – the pressure builds in his chest; he takes a deep breath, 

“I love you.”

He says them quietly, to her feet, and they feel heavy and strange (but not wrong) on his tongue. Silence reigns and he can feel eyes on him (the other Doctors, one confused and the other hurting, and Clara and this interface who is and isn’t Rose) and he really should look up now because this is important and he’s just staring at the ground like an idiot –

His eyes inch up to meet hers (not hers, not Rose, not really, not in the ways that count, he tells himself again and again) and she’s smiling fondly at him and his hearts jump at the reflection of love there. It feels like it means something, to him and to her because he finally said it. It feels like maybe she is here with him, that maybe this interface has a little more Rose in her than he thought or that it’s tapping into something from her or his memories of her or maybe it is Rose, Bad Wolf, reaching through space and time to give him this moment even as she saves him in another.

“I know.” Her head tilts as if she’s listening to timelines whispering secrets and possibilities into her ears. Maybe she is. He wants her to say more, he wants to say more, he wants her to be his Rose, he wants to laugh with her and show her new places –

And then her attention shifts past him.

“Go on then. Save the universe, preserve the timeline. Let it burn.”

He looks back at the Moment, at the other two Doctors watching him. Of course. He looks back at her, at her golden beauty and sad eyes.  

“I’m here.”

And even as he takes his place by their sides and puts a hand over the gem, he feels her warmth in the air. It’s not okay, it never will be, but it’s necessary and he can live with it. Has, does, will live with it. His eyes close briefly to savor that feeling, to remember it on the lonely days to come, and then he opens them to face his choice. He looks into the eyes of his other selves, sees the same determination and acceptance reflected back at him, past and present and future. They press down together and everything burns.


	11. Art of Sculpting and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tentoo/Rose, British Museum in Pete's World, prompt from whoinwhoville on tumblr.
> 
> Reference to the DW novel "The Stone Rose"

They can’t go back to see firsthand how this Earth’s past differs from the old one, not until their TARDIS has finished growing in any case, but they can go to the British Museum and see the artifacts of long ago. Rose hasn’t been to the one in this universe yet – on her own, she’d had little interest in visiting a museum that would only remind her of her loss – and the Doctor is eager to go anywhere.   

They start with the Greco-Roman exhibits. There are vases and coins and fragments of temple facades, all of which look familiar. Identical, she would say, white marble and red figures, though the Doctor spouts off minute differences in style and subject and overall there is something off about the works, as with most of this universe. The same and not the same, but not bad. Especially with him here.

The most striking difference, one they both pick up on immediately, is the statue of Fortuna – or more of, the lack of a statue of Fortuna where there should be one. A statue of Pax with olive branches and cornucopia stands in her place.   

“Not nearly as beautiful,” the Doctor sniffs after a moment’s contemplation.

Rose’s cheeks turn pink as she bumps her shoulder against his arm. “Sure you’re not just saying that because you didn’t sculpt it?”

“Yes.” He replies quickly, no hesitation, and shoots her a dark look. If they weren’t in a museum surrounded by other people, she would be in his arms right now and – she clamps down on those errant thoughts and refocuses her attention on the statue. Beside her, the Doctor chuckles. “Though I did make a brilliant sculptor, didn’t I?”   

“Hmm.” She hums in agreement, recalling how he’d gotten every detail correct and how her heart had sped up at the implications of it. Nothing had come from it, not immediately anyway, but it had still been a pleasant confirmation.  

“Still, bet I could do a better job now. Just need a block of marble and some tools and I’ll have another statue made in a jiffy. Well, more like a few weeks, can’t rush perfection and a jiffy isn’t really time enough for much. Could even do one in the nude this time.” He waggles his eyebrows at her and she laughs.

“And then drop it in ancient Rome for archaeologists to find years later and put in a museum? Thanks but no thanks. Don’t much fancy having my nakedness on display for all.”  

“Course not. I’d keep this masterpiece tucked away for our eyes only.”   

“Sounds very exclusive.” She’s fighting both a blush and a smile now, losing at both.

“It will be. Though I might need to do some more research on my subject matter beforehand…“ He grins.

“That can be arranged.”

“Later then?”

She nods and while there’s a part of her that wants to suggest leaving the museum right this second and heading straight home (and she doubts he’d object), she puts it aside to follow him to the Egyptian exhibit.


	12. With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She finds him on the swing set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten/Rose, human AU for the prompt 'playground' by deathlyfandoms on tumblr

“How’d you find me?” John mutters as she sits down on the swing next to him.

“You always come here.”

“Well maybe next time I won’t.”

“Maybe,” Rose agrees though they both know it isn’t true. This playground has been there for most of their lives, a sanctuary away from the rest of the world when it pressed down on them and a meeting-spot for half a dozen adventures. “You want to talk about it?”

Her only answer is the creaking of chains as he continues to swing. She stretches a hand between them, an offering, and he takes it. Their swinging falls into sync. Back and forth, back and forth, and she’s starting to drift when he finally speaks.

 “Sometimes I think about running. Not just running around here and there, but properly leaving and not coming back.”

Rose glances at him. He’s looking straight ahead, eyes fixated on some horizon far away. He’s always moving, always waving his hands or bouncing about, never still except for those quiet moments in bed spooned around each other. So she’s not surprised that he wants to leave for the wider world.  

“Except I can’t.”

She blinks at the unexpected admission and turns her head to see him better. “Why not?”

He turns to stare at her, eyes burning, his hand gripping hers tighter, and she realizes the answer to her query even as he answers, “I don’t want to leave you.”

“That’s not –“ The words catch in her throat; oh she wants him to stay, she does, she loves him and the thought of him leaving _hurts_ , but she doesn’t want him staying here in this crappy town for her alone, doesn’t want him trapped with his parents, doesn’t want him miserable in college if he’d be happier traipsing around the world.  “John, I don’t want to be the reason you follow along with what your family wants.”

“You’re not. Er, well, you are in a way, but not in a bad way.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean I want to be with you and so I don’t want to leave but I also want to go because I don’t want to do what they want me to do.”

“We’ll be off to college soon.” She says though she knows it isn’t enough, that college is still too close to home and what his family wants. 

“To continue on the family tradition of attending Oxford and taking over the company.” He snorts and shakes his head. His eyes widen and he twists his seat to fully face her. “I’m sorry. That was rude, wasn’t it? There’s nothing wrong with Oxford, it’s a fantastic university, and I’m very proud that you got in. And no family ties either; it’s just you and your brilliance. I knew you would.”

Rose waves off his apology, but gives him a warm smile at the compliment. “Big brain like yours, you’d have gotten in regardless of family.”

He grins. “Finally admitting I’m a genius then?”

She rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows you are. Just don’t fancy fanning your ego much. Head’s already big enough as it is.”

“Oi! You love my head.”

"The way it is, yeah, but not any bigger." Rose laughs at his drawn face and then pauses, an idea clicking in her head. She nibbles on her lip, gives it another moment’s contemplation, and then says, “We could do a gap year.”

He freezes and for a moment his eyes shine with anticipation and then he shakes his head. “No. You’ve wanted to go to Oxford for so long and –“

“And I’d love to travel with you too. We could start college later. Or I could start and you could invent something amazing.”

He tugs on her hand, drawing their swings together, as his other hand goes to lift her chin up. Their lips touch and then his tongue slides through her parted lips. It’s a sloppy kiss with the constant shifting of their swings bumping their noses together and almost pulling him away but it’s glorious all the same as their tongues glide together. When he’s done, he releases her and they both sway away.

“Take it that’s a yes?”

He beams at her. “Traveling with you, how could I say no?”


End file.
